Day 19: Just like that scene in The Last Crusade.

The towering gates of Sen’s Fortress haunted my dreams. Over and over again I would walk through the single gaping opening, right into the slathering jaws of the devilish snakemen that guarded it. For the first time since X-com, the fear of death at the hands of hissing beasts was upon me. If lanky purple figures in golden robes showed up, I was fucking done.

The scariest part wasn't the Snakemen themselves, it was what came WITH the Snakemen.

Still not ready, but significantly better prepared, I decided to instead continue exploring Lordran. Back at Firelink Shrine I was reminded of the graveyard. A sign informed me to “Use Divine”, something I was well prepared for. I silently thanked that stoic stone blacksmith atop the silent tower in the garden and pushed through piles of decaying bones come to life. The tighly packed graves constantly tripped me up, but I managed to stumble down a cliffside path towards a dark cave entrance without having to waste any of my precious flask. I was informed that I was entering “The Catacombs”.

“Skeletons?”

As if in answer, a bony foe threw himself at my shield, attacking relentlessly. In between furious assaults, I poked at him with my spear, eventually shattering him into little more than a pile of bone dust. Past him was a stairway that circled down to the left, flanked by a wall on the right and a pit on the right that descended into darkness. In the distance I could hear even more skeletons walking about, bones clanking against stone. Shield up, ready for another surprise assault, I took the only path available: down. If only I knew how long it would be before I would leave.

My first death in the Catacombs was at the bottom of the stairs. Happy to finally be on somewhat solid ground, I engaged in battle with two more skeletons, gleefully poking at them from behind my shield. This spear thing was pretty nice. Poke poke block. I could get used to this. As I turned to face the final of the pair I heard the wail from behind me. I had just enough time to see the spectral crimson head pulse once before it exploded, throwing me forward and onto my face. I stood up just in time for the skeleton to bury his sword into my back, sending me back to the Firelink bonfire.

Tony's anger management problems started when he bought a copy of Battletoads...

My wife had to remind me again that we did have neighbors and that they did, in fact, have small children and it was a hot night so windows would be open. I tried to tell her that this was an important lesson for them to learn, but she wouldn’t hear it. If anybody asked, I resolved to tell them I was watching The Sopranos.

This time I made sure to peer over the edge into the dark pit, ready for the shrieking blood red skulls to slowly float out towards me. Once I was aware of their presence, it wasn’t hard to bait them into early detonation, dodging in and out. Without their interference, the skeletons posed little threat. As I went further, I found myself jumping down onto a pile of bones, skeletons springing to life all around me. The battle was pitched, the surprisingly dexterous undead literally flying through the air at me from all angles. Any attempt to dodge found me rolling straight into another skeleton. Once I cleared the group, I took a moment to rethink my equipment.

For some reason, the giant boar helmet didn't seem silly at the time. In retrospect though...

I was ready. Tight corridors and constant light assaults made for a great opportunity to hide behind my tower shield and prod endlessly. The first bonfire was a needed relief, bolstering my spirits that much more. I informed my wife of my progress and she seemed somewhat confused. “Last time I heard somebody that excited about a bonfire was high school.”

I knew I shouldn’t have been that excited. Dark Souls could sense my excitement and it would crush it. The Catacombs would test me in a way I had never been tested before, a true test of my will and dedication. Could I overcome the dusty remains or would I leave my own permanent impression on Lordran here in the darkness?

Day 18: Whoops

Shortly after defeating the Moonlight Butterfly I had stumbled upon another poignant sight. Just past the bridge there was another tower. Atop it was an anvil and a variety of blacksmithing tools, all sitting as if they had just been used. In the middle of it all was a stone figure, praying to the unforgiving night sky. He looked similar to Andre, the blacksmith of the Undead Parish. Near him was a chunk of stone called the Divine Ember, which promised to allow me to imbue my weapons with holy power. It seemed I was not the only one to feel to the cold touch of Lordran, whoever this ancient metalworker was had suffered a fate far worse than mine.

When I returned to Andre, he seemed excited to take the ember off my hands and go to work with it. I upgraded a spear to a Divine Spear, then pondered what to spend the rest of my souls on. One thing stood out to me at a whopping 20,000 souls – the Crest of Artorias, which promised to open a sealed door in Darkroot Garden. I had walked past this door before, a hulking stone gateway with a glowing orb in the center. Should I through caution (and my precious souls) to the wind and give it a try? Worst case scenario, I lose all the 250 souls that would be left after my purchase. I let out a puff of breath and confirmed the purchase, watching a solid five levels vanish. This crest better be worth it.

"P90x bro, shit is so cash. Only 75,000 souls."

Past the terrible trees I came upon the door. A sign near it identified a false wall right next to it which led to a bonfire that overlooked the Darkroot Basin. A whole host of ghostly players gathered around the fire, most wearing gear no more elaborate than my very basic robes. All of them were heading to or from the door, which was a good sign indeed. If they could do it, so could I…right?

The door swung open with a flash, revealing a set of stairs that when down into a grotto. I ran forward and almost immediately began dodging soul arrows from all directions. Whatever was here was angry. Pushing deeper into the woods I saw the offending individual in the distance, his spell-casting catalyst held high. Target set I charged toward him, oblivious to the barely visible rogue who had snuck around behind me. His blade slid cleanly into my back, ending my life in one stab.

One hit kill AND invisible. Awesome. Thanks Dark Souls.

Darkroot Garden: Where white phantoms just point and laugh at you.

If I had learned one thing from this game though, the difficult of the enemies often directly related to the quality of the loot they guarded. If only I could make it past them to whatever cache of shining amazingness they guarded…perhaps the edge would go to me. Standing up at the nearby bonfire, I stepped through the gateway with a new resolve: to run like a little girl. Into the trees I sprinted, blue magical bolts exploding around me like it was Wizard ‘Nam, making it as far as an overturned log before realizing I was in way too far over my head and turning around. If I could only make it back to the bonfire I would be safe! I dashed towards the staircase, almost making it before a guy with a mace slipped in front of me, ready to strike. Darting right I found myself wedged between the stairs and the nearby cliffside, certain death all around me. Was suicide the only way out? I tried to swallow, finding my mouth far too dry to elicit even the most basic gulping noise. I was just about to dive to my death (this cruel world!) when I noticed my pursuers break off up the stairs. They were going to jump down onto me for sure, poetic justice for how I killed their friend, the Taurus Demon. I brought my shield up sheepishly, ready for death.

Then they jumped over my head completely. A few seconds later I was 7000 souls richer.

Lordran might not be that bad of a place after all. Over the next 30 minutes, I farmed nearly 100,000 souls. I walked into Darkroot Garden a mere pup, but left a soul-bloated man. I still didn’t feel ready for Sen’s Fortress though, there was more to explore.

Day 17: The Colonizer and Colonized

Darkroot Garden was sufficiently dark and root-y to justify the name. It was very much a dungeon driven outdoor level, filled with winding passages flanked by steep shrubberies. The enemies, gangly sentient trees, had a particularly nasty grab attack (unblockable, of course) but otherwise were hardly a threat. I had gotten good enough at this point to be able to rely less and less on my shield, spending the vast majority of my time rolling around. As I slowly worked through the forest, I came upon a slightly more impressive clearing dotted with trees. The forest cover was tight, adding to the claustrophobia of the place. A sign on the floor informed me of “Amazing armor ahead!”, which was indeed somewhat true. A suit of Elite Knight’s Armor (similar to the starting suit of the Knight class, just more…elite) that would prove to be vital in later travels.

Thanks to promo images, I knew I had whatever giant feline terror this is to look forward to.

Of course, this was Dark Souls, where nothing comes without a price. Why I was surprised to see a nearby suit of rusted and moss covered armor spring to life is beyond me. I should have started to expect this shit by now. The massive suit of armor staggered towards me, swinging his sword in a wide arc. I poked in for an attack, dismayed by how little damage penetrated his thick suit. Things went like this for a while, me on the total defensive, terrified to stumble over and activate another suit of hidden armor. The fight was going in my favor though, the monstrosity’s attacks were sloppy and easy to dodge. It was to be a battle of attrition-who would make the first mistake?

When the thing kneeled, I thought for a moment that Dark Souls was showing me an uncharacteristic example of mercy. Was it surrendering? The sudden expanding halo of white light was all I needed in response. I tried to roll back in time, only to be caught in the burst. Suddenly I couldn’t walk beyond a weak stumble, my roll reduced to a pitiful seizure.

Touche giant stone golem. Touche.

Needless to say, I died rather quickly after that. Going back I endeavored to avoid the thing altogether, cutting a wide path to the left around the center of the grove. I came upon a set of ruins guarded by another suit of armor which lead away from the grove and up into a massive tower. Steeling myself against my previous defeat, I charged at the beat and played the aggressor, ruthlessly slashing at the thing before it could lock me down. It fell right before it could cast whatever terrible magic it had used before. Ascending the stairway it guarded brought me to an unexpected white barrier. I had plenty of charges in my Estus Flask…why not? Through I went.

In a game so full of terror and rage, it’s rare to enjoy a moment of calm. You’re always either fresh from or on your way to some terrible challenge, totally drained. Walking onto the bridge following that barrier was almost calming. The moonlight streamed down, showing a side of Lordran scarcely seen. In that moment one could see how a tourist bureau might say “Lordran is for lovers!” and not be far off. It was almost idyllic.

Then the giant butterfly floated into view. Its languid wing strokes almost seemed sad, as if it was simply defending itself against me, the invader. For the first time I actually felt bad attacking something. It floated just out of the reach of my weapons, needling me with bolts of magic that did minor damage through my shield. Occasionally it would launch three orbs of magic that were easy enough to dodge by rolling from side to side on the bridge.

"I strike at thee with the force of a thousand trashy tattoos!"

I could maintain this for a long time, but would it ever come close enough for me to attack? After what seemed to be an eternity of dodging homing energy balls (and wishing for a butterfly net to reflect them with) the creature floated down to the bridge, resting its head on the side. As I walked over to it, I could almost imagine its harsh breathing as it took a moment to recoup before going back to the sky. I savagely attack it, dodging away as it started to pulse with blue light. Sure enough, it exploded before lifting off again, a final defense.

Unlike with other bosses, slaying the Moonlight Butterfly rang hollow. For a brief moment it made me question my presence in this place. Was I doing anyone a favor by singularly slaughtering all the flora and faunae of this once beautiful land? The walk back to the bonfire was full of bittersweet thoughts of both victory and defeat.

Lost in these thoughts I didn’t see the giant tree appear from a previously unseen path, grabbing me and draining my entire life bar in one squeeze.

Never change Dark Souls.

Day 16: Caught Up

The recent release of The Thing has gotten me thinking about creature design lately. John Carpenter’s original film had some of the most disturbing creatures to ever appear on screen, monsters that just took your breath away. The original The Thing, which came out in 1982, was prime accidental nightmare fuel for multiple generations of children. Fathers across the world showed this film to their slightly-too-young-for-it children in the 80s and 90s, priming a future world of visual artists with images of arachnid terror and body horror monstrosities. Just like remake of The Fly, the horror was what you became, not what you were. The creatures all maintained the vague human features of their victims, exploding from their bodies with primal force. It was pure fear given a face.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

Many of the monsters in Dark Souls play off that same primal fear of invasion or change. Almost all of them have a vague human shape, either a faceless suit of armor come to life or the once-human form of Qualeeg. With the exception of the actual beasts of Lordran, your foes are rarely far from you in shape. Even you are a twisted undead husk at first, only gaining a recognizable shape after spending valuable Humanity. It’s a world with everything is slightly twisted, recognizable but unsettling.

Unsettling is the word to describe Dark Souls. It’s not a scary game, very rarely are you actually terrified by something. Instead you find yourself tense, threatened, and uneasy. You don’t know where death lay in wait for you, salivating behind some sheath of darkness. Cast against any other video game, everything just seems wrong. Your hero is weak and pathetic, regularly being crushed by foes. In most games, when presented with an unreasonable challenge, you can be safe in your expectation that you’re supposed to lose. In Dark Souls, you quickly learn to expect the worst regardless of the situation. Everything just seems wrong.

A prime example of this sense of unsettling and distortion is the Titanite Demon, a mini-boss type monster that exists in a few places in the game. The first time you encounter it is before the main entrance to Darkroot Garden, a tight and confusing forest area. Coming down the stairs from the Undead Parish, you find yourself in a massive antechamber where the beast waits in the middle, quick to start flinging lightning bolts at you. At first glance you can’t really make out its features, but as you close in the horrible truth reveals itself.

It's hard to get ahead in life as a Titanite Demon.

Whatever it once was you can’t tell, perhaps a statue or stone skinned giant, but now it’s a grotesquely altered monstrosity. The head is gone, replaced by what looks like a covered wound, as if the head was removed by something else. It drags itself along on one twisted leg and what looks to be some sort of writhing tail. The long staff it swings about in wide arcs is called a “Titanite Catch Pole.” Whatever their purpose, these terrible things are intended to catch their prey. In a world as twisted as this, would it be too much to suggest that the Titanite Demon might have once been a undead like you who had been caught and twisted to suit the needs of something far greater than it?

Ugh. When I came down the stairs and faced the beast for the first time, I showed it no mercy. The wide sweeping arcs of its Catch Pole were simple to dodge, providing me with ample opportunities to slide it and strike at it. Once it fell, never to return, I was free to explore the slithering Darkroot Garden, where my journey would truly begin to coalesce.

Day 15: Blood and Tears

I haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep in two weeks. Every night my dreams are filled with horrible monsters, dark corridors, and the endless quest to recover my lost power that is always just out of reach. Faintly glowing orbs forever at the end of a long hall filled with countless monstrosities, horrendous traps, and unseen pitfalls.

And those frogs. Jesus the frogs. Those never leave your nightmares. Nothing can prepare you for the first time you see one and by the time you escape from the sewers, hands shaking, you’re half the man you started as.

I'm watching you motherfucker.

It’s interesting how the game uses darkness and light. When you enter a dungeon your perspective is rapidly limited by encroaching darkness, your viewpoint closing down to about five feet in front of your face and no more. When you’re outside, basking in sunlight (PRAISE THE SUN!), everything seems fine. It’s pretty rare to feel threatened outside once you pass the Undead Burg. Descend into the madness of the underground though…and that helmet your character is wearing might as well be strapped to your face. Other games like Alan Wake made a specific point of emphasizing the safety of the light, but in Dark Souls it simply comes naturally. Terror comes from darkness and claustrophobia, tight quarters and shadows being your worst enemy. It’s prime nightmare fuel.

My life outside the game was starting to suffer as a result of my playing. Unable to sleep I found the bags under my eyes starting to actually scare my students. My lesson plans were degrading into “Just read shit and not wake the teacher up.” Things were starting to heat up in the school year and I was slipping into a Dark Souls related coma. Things had to get cheery and they needed to get cheery fast.

The real monster here is input lag.

When I returned to Firelink Shrine after my failed foray into Sen’s Fortress I sat aimless and distraught. What was I to do? The wall was firmly entrenched…I was not at all prepared for the challenges ahead…I needed to prepare myself better for what lie ahead. I began to wander around the safe area near the bonfire, chatting with the various NPCs that had set up shop. A newcomer, a terrifying black face with a horrible grin, had taken up shop and set me towards the task of finding something called the Lordvessel.

Of course it required me to travel to Sen’s Fortress. Thanks Dark Souls.

Giant boulders and snake men. Indiana Jones would love it here.

Still utterly defeated I wandered past him, through an archway and towards an ominous looking graveyard. Death…how fitting. As I went further into the tightly packed graves, I was distracted by the sound of tumbling bones. Of course…skeletons. Ever since the original Jason and the Argonauts, the tinkling sound of skeletal combat had inspired a primal fear in me. Now, before me, stood two of the very same skeletons, curved blades and shields in their hands. They fell quickly to my despondent strikes.  I continued on until I came up a massive skeleton who wielded a blade as large as my body. What he had in strength, I had in speed, so I rolled around behind him and unloaded into his bony backside. It didn’t take long.

Whatever dark cloud had floated over me began to lift. Perhaps I was too low leveled for Sen’s Fortress. These skeletons seemed to die quick enough, I would have no problem continuing on. A found a few new weapons in the graveyard, slightly stronger than their counterparts and ripe for improvement. Winged Spear +5 sounded good to me, I just had to finally invest all these resources I had been accumulating.

The trip back to the blacksmith didn’t take very long at all thanks to the nearby elevator up to the Undead Parish. As I sat at his anvil, ordering a variety of services, I took notice of the door behind me. The creature there had frightened me off nearly a week ago, something wicked that spit lightning and crawled around with its arms. I remembered it being about the same size as the skeleton I had just defeated…it couldn’t be that hard could it? Perhaps it was time to regain my confidence the hard way: with blood and tears.

I didn’t sleep very well that night.

Day 14: Snakes, why did it have to be snakes?

I’d never felt quite as connected with the score of “I DID IT!” messages as I did after vanquishing Qualeeg. Slowly, deliberately, I strode past her smoking remains, deeper into her sanctum. Before me opened up the quivering pink vastness of the Demon’s Ruins, a terrifying vision of things to come. Focused forward, I rang the second Bell of Awakening, the ringing echoing even down in these awful depths. It was a sound of victory, my victory. Never again would a bell sound so sweet. Somewhere a massive iron gate lifted, drawn by massive iron hands. I had seen that gate before, near the first Bell and its terrible Gargoyles. It was time to ascend. I lingered for only a moment, re-equipping my Robes of the Seeker, before going back to the waterwheel and heading back to Firelink Shrine.

Going back to the Undead Parish I felt like an unstoppable behemoth. My sword flashed darkly across the faces of the undead that stood before me, tearing them to ribbons as I literally dashed past them. If I could stop Qualeeg, surely no mere shade could stand before me! I laughed out loud, eliciting a strange stare from both my wife and kitten, as I crossed the bridge towards the massive gates that heralded Sen’s Fortress. The middle one stood open, a terrible challenge to my newfound confidence.

Dark Souls has a certain way of building you up only to knock you down though.

As I stepped through the gate, the natural light of outdoors faded away, replaced with the sickly yellow glow of torches. Finally, a more traditional dungeon, no more sewers, churches, or ruins. Just a good old fashioned fortress to be stormed! I headed forward towards whatever awaited me. CLICK.

In some countries they just bury a copy of Dark Souls rather than bother with explosives.

Click? Wait, are there claymore mines in…

Arrow to the face, instant death. Dark Souls was going to start throwing traps at me. Godfuckingdammit.

Thankfully the bonfire was nearby, just across the bridge. Upon closer inspection, the pressure point was obvious, a raised platform right in the middle of the entryway. I had become complacent, vainglorious. I had spent so much time looking up that I had failed to see my own demise right in front of me. I resolved to place each foot more firmly from here on, lest Dark Souls decide to punish my hubris again.

That I did, past the arrow trap and into Sen’s Fortress. The only thing to great me was the terrible hissing of the Manserpents, giant beasts with the body of a man and the head of a snake. In one had it wielded a massive greatsword, the other a pitiful buckler. Two of them stood in the shadows, flanking the main exit to the room, and both of them came at me at once. I attempted to block the jumping slash of one only to lose nearly my entire stamina bar as I stumbled backwards. Brute force would be no good here, I was going to have to use speed and my wits. Dodging around to the side, I took a swing. 13 damage. The life bar above his head barely moved. Had he blocked my attack? No, I had been behind him, there was no way. I desperately tried to keep a pillar between me and the two onrushing creatures, but their wide sweeps managed to hit me through the stone obstruction, making short work of me.

Another pet peeve? Giant bugs for bosses. And poison. Fucking poison.

How could I overcome them when I did so little damage? Was this another Crystalis situation? Crystalis was an old NES game in the same vein as Legend of Zelda, an overhead dungeon crawling action game. In the game, your character would earn experience by slaying monsters, leveling up his various weapons and earning more health. It was by no means an exceptionally difficult game, but there were hidden blocks to prevent you from advancing too far at too low of a level. Each boss required you to be a certain level to even damage them, shrugging off every single hit unless you were at that magical level. At one point, I faced a teleporting witch who just could not be defeated. I could go hours without taking a single point of damage, yet no matter how many thousands of times I would hit her, she would simply not die. In these pre-Internet days, the only way to get questions answered about more obscure titles was to write a physical letter to Nintendo Power magazine and hope for an answer. After nearly two months of work and waiting I finally got a response: I needed to be at least level 12 to even touch her. I was level 11.

I was not going to put it past Dark Souls to pull that kind of shit on me. It was time to go explore and earn some levels. It was time to GRIND.

Day 13: Rough Sex

I’d like to think I let out a scream that would make Toshiro Mifune proud as I charged into battle with my Drake Sword held above my head. In reality I probably sounded more like the kitten that was sleeping at my side. I swung wildly at her as I closed in tight, paying close attention to the gaping maw from which molten lava dripped. The human appendage swung what seemed to be some sort of red blade over my head, unable to hit me while I was so close. Had I really found her weakness this early? Her life kept dipping as attack after attack whiffed over my head. The lava spews were so heavily telegraphed, the spider face rearing back slightly, that I was able to roll out of the way with no problem.

My souuuuuuuullllllssssssss!

Then I learned about her “ace” attack. I would later read that all the bosses had one, an attack that would either instantly kill you or get you damn close. For Chaos Witch Qualeeg it was a wicked red explosion. She would bend her female part forward, as if charging up for a moment, before unleashing it. Lost entirely in the havoc I was wrecking upon her, I didn’t even notice it. Then…boom.

For the next hour I would run down that webbed hallway into her chamber, sword held aloft, throwing myself desperately at her arachnid form. Sometimes I would get close, once even as close as 10% of her life left, before she would explode in crimson death. I would never see it coming, often so lost in damaging her that I never saw how to predict it. I couldn’t eat the attack, it would kill me outright. What could I do? Desperate for answers, I took a moment to pour over pages of accumulated gear in a desperate attempt to fix whatever problem I was having. Superior armor did nothing, blocking with my shield didn’t help, different types of weapons were never able to speed up her demise enough to escape the devilish detonation. At wits end, I put on the Tattered Cloth set I had picked up in the ruins of Blighttown, the starting gear for pyromancers. It had superior fire resistance and, well, it was a red blast, so maybe it was fire aligned. Who knew?

Cracked and tattered cloth: your first choice for flame retardation.

The fight went as usual, I opened up strong and she opened up even stronger, unleashing the explosion in the first minute of the battle. Unconfident in my solution, I put down the controller as soon as the blast went out, sure in my demise. Imagine my surprise when I survived with barely a slice of health, enough to be stolen quickly away with a stomp of her plated foot. I had discovered my salvation…fire resistance. I immediately phoned my friend, who had also been struggling on the arachnid bitch to share my new discovery. He clued me in to the location of a shield with exceptionally high fire resistance which was not far from my location, in the Valley of the Drakes.

Heading out of my tunnel of safety, I hugged the wall until I could hear the sloshing of a waterwheel. Inexplicably, a massive wooden machine was still running deep in the swamp, powered by a…dog. The comparisons to Silent Hill were becoming worrisome. I rode one of the paddles up, rolling off at the top and climbing a series of ladders up until I once again found myself in a grime covered tunnel. The “fatties” from before came at me in waves, sometimes two at a time, but I effortless danced around them and buried my sword in their backs. Hours of practice had served me well. Soon I could see a muted light at the end of the tunnel, the scent of fresh air wafting into my nostrils.  The words “Valley of the Drakes” flashed on my screen and I was free from Blighttown for the first time in days. I wanted to kiss the ground but resisted, it was still Dark Souls. I very well could die from some obscure grass disease.

YOU HAVE BEEN POISONED!

Creeping along the cliff sides, I eventually came upon what my friend had told me about. The desiccated remains of a dragon hung off the ground, two items resting near its mouth. Blithely I ran up and grabbed both, the most important being the Dragon Crest Shield. The fire resistance was amazing! From behind the menu I saw the hint of movement and backed out just in time to see the undead dragon come to life, burying me in poisonous goop. Fucking goop! On the plus side, now I didn’t have to run all the way back to Blighttown!

Clad in the ruined clothes of a swamp wandering magic user, I once again descended into the bowels of Qualeeg’s Domain, this time prepared. Again, she crawled out of her hiding spot, rushing at me with flaming fangs bared. Like the pianist who spends his whole life training for one performance, I knew that this one shot was it. I had to take her down. I stuck to her like a bad decision at a frat party, needling at her life bar and making steady progress. Then she threw her body forward, preparing for her “ace” attack. I brought my shield up and ducked behind it as the wave of hateful fire washed over me.  For the first time I stood my ground, hurt but still in the fight. Renewed, I threw myself full into the fight, obliterating her. As she faded into light I threw my controller on the coffee table. “FUCK YOU BITCH, YOU LIKE THAT SHIT DON’T YOU!?” My wife peeked her head into the living room, reminding me that the windows were open and that our neighbors might get the wrong idea.

"Listen to those two! What's a Dragon Bone Sword and why don't you use one on me?"

The only rough sex going on here was between me and a bitch named Qualeeg.

Day 12: The Big Show

I was reticent to leave my little sewer of sanctuary at first. Man, I never thought I’d say that…happier in a sewer level? What had Dark Souls done to me? Would I soon be singing the praises of underwater segments simply because at least water had the common courtesy to be transparent about it wanting to kill you?

In some religions, this level is their version of Hell.

For a while all I did was peek my head out and look around, straining against my limited vision. Off in the distance I could see things moving, plotting, preparing to lay siege to my fragile flesh. Far off to the right was some massive white mound with giants pacing about on it. Somewhere there was something giving off a horrible creaking noise, perhaps a terrible machine bent on my destruction (I was close).

I spent a few minutes going over my gear, checking to see what I had obtained during my downward crawl through the scaffolds of Blighttown. I was currently clad in something akin called the “Robes of the Seeker,” which bore a terrible similarity to something the Grand Dragon of the KKK might wear. For a set of robes it provided a decent amount of physical defense, but it lacked in the magical defense areas. Elemental attacks would tear right through it. I had found a set of badly tattered clothes that seemed to be geared towards fire resistance, the starting gear for a pyromancer. Memories of farming for resistance gear in World of Warcraft flashed in my mind and I had to suppress a shudder. Don’t do that Dark Souls, don’t make me farm old content for gear that would get used in a single encounter. Until this point I still hadn’t found a weapon quite suitable to replace my Drake Sword, with a regular spear being my regular backup weapon thanks to its superior reach. I was able to poke at more powerful enemies while maintaining a safe distance. It wasn’t exactly effective, but at this point I just wanted to stay alive. It was hard enough to not just use two shields.

Capture cards are really expensive, did you know that?

Paralyzed by fear, I sat there, watching other players venture into the darkness of the swamp. Some carried giant swords, others small maces, one even carrying seemingly nothing for a weapon. Was I witnessing one of the fabled “monk” runs? (No weapons and light armor) Sword in hand, I shook off my terror and readied myself. I took a deep breath, leaned forward on my couch, then slowly exhaled. I shifted my grip on the controller and mentally counted down from twenty. It was the same process I went through before a set of weights, the slow build. I was getting myself psyched up. I didn’t know where I was going, what was going to be in the way, or even what was awaiting me when I got there, but I knew I had to go. Sitting here was going to accomplish nothing. So out I went.

I ran into the swamp, ignoring the rapidly filling poison bar. I ran past more of the fire breathing bugs, past the crash of rocks as the giant monsters flung hunks of earth at me, and straight onto the white mound. Monstrous tendrils of what looked like bone grew out of it. Three of the giants were pursuing me at this point, boulders crashing all around me as I desperately sought some safety. When I saw the glowing orange signs in the distance I knew I was heading in the right direction. I dove into the opening they signified just in time to avoid getting my skull caved in. New words flashed on my screen: “Quelaag’s Domain”. Quelaag was the guardian of the second bell, I knew that much…and I was close.

The tunnel I was in reminded me of something out of Alien, hideous cocoons of hardened webbing  forming the surfaces. Down the hall two strange creatures languished on the ground, arms and legs barely visible underneath a massive egg sac on their back. As I approached they didn’t turn to face me, content to sit still and let me pass. I took it as a blessing and pressed forward, the messages getting more dire as I went.  “Boss ahead!” “Use lightning!” “Amazing chest ahead!”

Amazing chest?

Being a hairstylist for monsters must be pretty easy, it's all about the bangs.

When I traversed the white fog I suddenly understood. Chaos Witch Quelaag was a terrible hybrid of a spider’s lower body and a naked woman’s upper body. And yes, her chest was rather…intimidating. She crawled down from the farside of the room, rapidly approaching with the terrible motion of eight chitinous legs. She paused for a moment, as if to regard the foolish mortal that invaded her domain. Then, before I could react, she leapt into the air and landed in front of me, spewing molten lava all over the ground. I died before I could roll out of the way.

So this was to be the next boss, the guardian of the second bell? At least there was only one of her.

Day 11: Bugs, why did it have to be bugs?

I took a moment just for myself while sitting at the first bonfire in Blighttown, a moment to look out over the ruined remains of what must have once been an intimidating fortress or bustling city. Fading images of other players danced around me, some preparing to go deeper, others engaged in final combat. Each and every one of them was going through the same experience as me, albeit under different circumstances. There was a wonderful sense of unity in this struggle. When I wasn’t playing the game, I would check various forums and see pages full of “FUCK BLIGHTTOWN” or “Man, how do you get past X in Blighttown?” threads, each building to this sense of impending and communal doom. I knew that any struggle I had was mirrored in the struggles of hundreds of other players. I could actually SEE them etched onto the ground in orange. “I can’t do this!” was common, near almost every single ladder down into the dark. At the same time, a sense of elation would come over me as I walked past the corpse of a boss to see a smattering of “I DID IT!” and “HERE!” spread across the ground.

Idling near the blacksmith in Undead Parish while writing a post earlier I would occasionally hear the ringing of a bell, the sound of another player somewhere in the world defeating the Bell Gargoyles. Each time I would let out a quiet “HUZZAH!” in celebration of another’s success. Every victory was not just for the player, but for the whole community. I wanted to give back, to join in that celebration. Not now, I was too busy with my own suffering in Blighttown, but soon. I would start throwing down my own summoning sign to help players less advanced than me. The Gaping Dragon was behind me and whatever lay ahead at the bottom of Blighttown was little more than a light in the distance, so I would have to wait, but in time I would be ready.

Praise the Sun!

Rested, I stood up and moved forward along the edge of the stone bridge the bonfire rested on. I came around a corner to see two glowing red dogs, much smaller than the ones that populated the Depths. My initial spear thrusts went right over their heads and they began to gnaw at my heels, barely touching my stamina bar. I took a step back to get into better stabbing position and they both stopped attacking, setting their feet and inhaling. Glowing…red…dogs. Hellhounds! I tried to bring my shield up in time to absorb the first buffet of flame, but it was too late. I was thrown backwards and off the edge of the bridge.

I came back, prepared for what was waiting for me. Rather than risk the burning kiss of their breath, I opted to launch a ranged assault, pelting the dogs with Soul Arrows and kiting them back towards the bonfire. Now I understood all the phantoms fighting by the fire, they too had not anticipated the two beasts that lay in wait for them. I wanted to reach out to them and advise them, so I left my first message: “Try ranged”. I wanted to wait a second, just to see if a new phantom would appear holding a crossbow or sorcerer’s catalyst, but I needed to press on.

I moved on, continuing my downward crawl through the disturbingly poorly constructed scaffolding that seemed to cover the sides of the walls. More humanoid creatures blitzed me, leaping out of the darkness and rapidly falling to my blade. Eventually I came to the bottom, a murky swamp that seemed to spawn hordes of fragile but annoying giant mosquitos. I could see them floating towards me out of the darkness, buzzing directly at me no matter where I was. I leapt down from the final platform and landed with a splash in some brown liquid. Immediately a bar appeared signaling that I was in the process of being poisoned. I panicked and started running straight into the swamp, desperate for dry land. The whole god damn town was poisonous. Even in death, Blighttown was desperate to kill me.

Wait a second...demon dogs and a town trying to kill me? I've been here before...

I came around a corner and heard it before I saw it. The buzzing of the mosquitos had suddenly gotten louder, punctuated by a terrible hissing sound. Fire exploded around me as a giant spider creature came into view. Still desperate to escape the toxic muck, I ran straight past it, barely casting a second glance at it. I could deal with it later, whatever it was. As the hissing faded into the distance I finally found purchase in an old sewer tunnel not far from where I had landed. Inside was a bonfire. I immediately lit and kindled it. I had a bad feeling I was going to be here for a while.

I peered outside the tunnel for a moment, unable to see much further than a few feet in front of my face. I had reached what looked to be the very bottom of Blighttown finally, a place crowded with giant bugs and toxic sludge. Great, where was I going to go now?

Day 10: Blighted

When first entering Blighttown, the visual style of the game suddenly shifts as if you’d just stumbled into a poisonous haze. The darkness wraps itself around you while everything turns a twisted shade of green or brown. Immediately you feel constricted, your eyes straining to catch the glimmer of slimy flesh in the distance before it can pounce on you. As I crawled downward through a massive shaft, I felt the tension in my body build. I kept going DOWN. It kept getting DARKER. This was not going to be a good thing, not at all. All the rules of video game logic were being tossed in my face. I should flee, go off and try something else. If the game made me crawl through a tiny tunnel, I would quit right then and there.

A message glowed in the gloom. “Fatty ahead”. Fatty? As if to answer my call, an obese monstrosity bounded out of the darkness and slammed me into the ground with an oversized bit of wood. His attacks proved easy enough to predict, only the three swing combo catching me off guard regularly. I had no problem dancing around him in my robes, burying my blade in his back. He faded away in the manner of a serious enemy, vanishing into white mist. In his place I found an item. Perhaps it would be his massive club? Or a set of tattered, but surprisingly effective, clothes?

Nope, dung pie. Explains a lot.

Cheap shot I know, but it was the first thing to come to mind. So sue me. (Don't.)

As I pressed forward into the darkness, the solid stone of the Depths fell away into rickety wooden platforms. Torches burned in the distance, seemingly a bad idea when everything is made of wood. Twisted purple creatures, perhaps once the residents of Notblighttown before it was…blighted? They went down quickly, uselessly hacking at my shield with improvised weapons. I grew paranoid as I moved forward, the walkways becoming increasingly thinner. All it would take is one errant roll and I’d get to the bottom of Blighttown the hard way.

Eventually I reached the far end of the walkway and the whole of Blighttown opened up before me. Massive walls that opened up into an enormous sky suggested that I might actually have spent the last few hours far above the ground rather than deep under it. In the distance I spotted an item resting on a corpse. The corpse sat on a platform seemingly unconnected to anything, reachable only from above or perhaps a jump. Sure enough, a message near the edge of the walkway suggested I jump for the item. I took a few steps back, prepared myself, and rushed forward.

Did you know there's a jump at the end of QWOP? Me either.

I missed it by a hair’s breadth.

As predicted, I plummeted into the darkness, ending my own life in the best way possible: in pursuit of shiny things. I ran back and grabbed what was left of my souls before deciding to save whatever lay there for another time. I began to climb down the rickety walkways leading towards Blighttown proper, taking my time and making sure I didn’t experience any other unexpected trips. A series of vicious residents jumped down onto me, daggers flashing in the dark. Strikes bounced off my shield as I tried to get my bearings, slowly pushing me back towards the edge of the platform I was on. I opened up my defense for a moment to try and get in my counterpoint when a sudden strike broke through my defenses and sent me spinning downwards. I was surprised to find that I had landed on another platform. My joy didn’t last though, as my three attackers quickly jumped down to continue the fight. The combined weight of all four of us was more than the rotting wood could handle as it took no time in splintering and falling out from under us.

If only I could earn frequent flyer miles in Lordran, I was spending more time in the air here than on the ground it seemed.

My emotions spent for the evening, I let my eyes drift towards a nearby window. In the reflection I saw the faint glow of the clock: 11:12. I had to be up at 6 the next morning for work. This was not going to be pretty. Throwing caution to the wind, I blitzed the early sections of Blighttown, mercilessly slaughtering anything that got in my way in a desperate bid to reach a bonfire. My aggression paid off, as shortly beyond the place of my most recent death I found the smouldering remains of a bonfire resting on a stone pathway. As it glowed back into life I looked over what would be most certainly be the bane of my existence for the next few days: Blighttown.